At Sevens and Sixes Part Seven of Home Is
by tutncleo
Summary: What happens the day after McGee finds out about Tony and Gibbs. Part seven of the "Home Is" series. Tony/Gibbs pairing.


"**At Sevens and Sixes"**

_**Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense…. **_ **Frederick W. Robertson**

"God, I think I'm going to be sick," Tony muttered softly, as he slowly tried to sit up. He'd been lying in bed for the last half hour, partially awake, trying to ignore the pounding in his head, and the acidic gurgling of his stomach, idly thinking he might be better off if he _was_ dead. He'd still be doing that now, except his phone was ringing, each shrill chime stabbing sharply, _directly_ into the center of his brain. Gibbs, who was asleep at his side, was beginning to stir, disturbed by the sound of the phone. A quick glance at the digital clock on the bedside table told him it was 8:00 a.m. 'Oh shit! Work!' he swore silently. Fighting down the nausea the change in altitude caused, Tony pushed himself out of bed, and reached for his suit pants, which were still crumpled in a ball on the floor, exactly where he had left them the day before. Patting around until he found what he was looking for, he pulled the cell phone out of a pocket and grunted into it, "DiNozzo."

No one answered.

Looking down at the phone, it took a minute for the display to swim into focus. When he had his eyes back under control, he saw, 'One Missed Call.'

'Damn it!' he silently cursed, as he touched the screen to see who it had been. 'Probie,' the screen read. 'Probably wondering where we are,' was Tony's first thought, followed by, 'McGee, there was something I should remember about McGee.' He vaguely recalled needing to talk to the probie, but he became too distracted by the bass drum that had apparently taken up residence in his head to try and sort out what it was about. He was just about to call him back when his phone chirped, indicating that he had new voicemail. Punching the message, he held the phone up to his ear and listened.

"Um….ah, um, this is McGee. Um….. I forgot to tell you last night that Vance said you and Gibbs should take today, and the weekend off. Ah, he…… um…… he wants me to get your statements though, so, um, I'll just call you later, okay? Right. Um….. So, hope you guys are feeling better. Um….. bye."

'Last night?' Tony thought. 'What in the hell is he talking about?'

"Who was it?" Gibbs called lazily from the bed, apparently now awake.

"McGee," Tony answered distractedly, half heartedly trying to figure out what he was missing, as he wobbled back over towards the bed. "He said Vance gave us off until Monday."

"Then come back to bed," Gibbs said sleepily. Tony thought that sounded like a good idea as he looked over at Gibbs, eyes barely open, body warm and inviting.

"How you feeling?" Tony asked softly, as he slid back under the covers and scootched over by Gibbs.

"I've been better," Gibbs answered truthfully, as he allowed Tony to draw him close and wrap his arms around him. "You?" he asked, his voice barely audible, as his arm settled around Tony's waist.

"Same here. Feel like I'm forgetting something important, but my head hurts too much to sort it out," Tony moaned, yawning into Gibbs' chest, enjoying the way the wiry grey hairs tickled his nose with the familiar aroma, thinking he might just be able to go back to sleep after all, and hoping the world would look better next time he woke up. The sound of gentle breathing was Gibbs' only reply. Tilting his head up, Tony saw that Gibbs was asleep again. He pressed a soft kiss to Gibbs' wounded shoulder, and before too long, Tony fell back to sleep also.

McGee punched the 'end call' button on his cell phone, and as most of the tension he'd been carrying slowly seeped out of his body, he took a second to enjoy the feeling of relief that washed over him. He'd just been given a reprieve by voicemail. It hadn't been until he got to work that morning, and looked at the empty desks surrounding him, that he'd remembered what Vance had said yesterday. He'd been too wrapped up in what he'd discovered last night, and how he was going to deal with it, to think about much else. He just knew that Gibbs was going to kill him in some slow, painful manner; he didn't like anyone to know _anything_ about his private life. He'd also come to realize that Tony, despite all his exaggerated tall tales about his many exploits, didn't share real information much more than Gibbs. The whole mess with Jeanne Benoit had been proof of that, and it didn't get much more personal than this; it wasn't everyday you discovered that your boss was sleeping with his very male, second in command. Just like that, his temporary respite from the blinding panic disappeared the instant he had those thoughts. He found himself wishing Abby was there, but then he remembered he was mad at her for keeping this secret from him. Did she think he couldn't handle it? He shook his head, realizing wryly that maybe she'd been right. Look at him – he was a mess!

McGee put the phone away and pulled out his report on yesterday's incident. Maybe if he buried himself in paperwork he'd be able to calm down, he reasoned. Unfortunately, his brain refused to cooperate, being much more interested in mulling over what he'd learned.

'This obviously isn't going to change the way things happen at work,' he thought. The comfort the two men had unconsciously provided for each other last night had been clear evidence that they'd been together for awhile. 'How have I missed the signs,' he wondered. 'Had there even been any? How long has it been going on?' He thought back over the last several months, trying to remember anything that should have clued him in to the change in Tony's and Gibbs' relationship, but couldn't come up with anything specific. Tony had seemed more confident, he'd noticed, but McGee had chalked that up to the time Tony had spent as team leader while Gibbs had been gone. Gibbs seemed ever so slightly more approachable since he'd gotten back from Mexico; if there was any way a coiled cobra _could_ be viewed as approachable. At least Gibbs wasn't as quick to slap the back of Tony's head, which in turn made Tony slap his. 'Oh my god, maybe that was it,' McGee thought. Maybe Gibbs didn't need to slap Tony anymore. Maybe he now had better ways of dealing with Tony when he got out of hand. McGee gave himself an imaginary head slap. 'What kind of investigator am I?! How could I have not questioned such a major change in habit? That's supposed to be one of the major indicators that something important has happened. How many times have I asked a witness about that very thing?' Feeling very stupid, McGee tried to get back to work.

The rest of the morning passed in a similar vein for McGee. He'd just get started on something when his head would flash back on the night before. It was if he'd been a voyeur, and that's what bothered him the most – as if he'd spied on someone's personal life uninvited – and even though he knew it wasn't technically true, it didn't make him feel any better. Knowing that he had to go see them to get their statements only made it worse. When Vance asked him late in the morning if he'd talked to Tony and Gibbs yet, he knew he'd have to get it over with soon. 'Whoever said facing your fears helped you conquer them, didn't know what they were talking about,' he told himself, as he dialed Tony's number for the second time that day.

The comforting feel of fingers cording through his hair woke Tony up. Opening his eyes, he found Gibbs, laying on his side, just looking at him, a small smile on his lips. 'I want to wake up that way every day for the rest of my life,' he thought, as he stared back into those beautiful blue eyes. 'God, I almost lost him yesterday,' Tony thought. Suddenly he was overcome by the need to reassure himself that Gibbs was there, with him, alive, and more or less in one piece. Pushing Gibbs onto his back, and covering him with his own body, remembering, just in time, not to put any pressure on Gibbs' shoulder, Tony reached up and grasped Gibbs' face in both hands. He pressed his lips to Gibbs' in a kiss that was more about possession than passion, then contented himself with just gazing down at Gibbs' face.

"What brought that on?" Gibbs asked, smiling up at him when Tony released his lips.

"I thought you were dead," Tony whispered.

Gibbs reached up with his good arm, and ran a hand down Tony's cheek. "Still here," he said softly.

Tony bent down for another kiss, needing yet another physical reminder that Gibbs was okay, and knowing that kissing was about all either one of them was up to at that moment.

"You taste and smell like beer. What did you do last night, self medicate?" Gibbs laughed, after Tony had collapsed back down, resting his head on Gibbs' left shoulder.

"Yeah, if McGee hadn't stopped over I'd probably still be sitting down……" Tony stopped abruptly. "Holy fuck!" he cursed, bolting upright, as the events of last night finally coalesced in his mind.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Gibbs asked, puzzled by the sudden change in Tony.

"Oh god, we've got a problem," Tony moaned, as he started to panic. "Damn, damn, damn! Stupid, stupid, stupid! I was so fucking stupid!"

"Tony, get a hold of yourself. What are you talking about?" Gibbs demanded.

"Last night. I'm talking about last night!" Tony hissed at Gibbs, as if that should explain everything.

"Okay," Gibbs said carefully. "What about last night?" He now sounded like he was talking to a small child.

"McGee and last night," Tony regarded Gibbs with wild eyes.

"What about McGee and last night? You've got to give me a little more, here, Tony. I was pretty out of it last night," Gibbs coaxed.

"McGee!" Tony bit out. "He stopped over last night to check on you. I was in the living room and I'd had too many beers," he stopped there.

"And?" Gibbs prompted.

"He wanted to check on you, so we came up here. You were asleep, and McGee said I should be too. Oh, god," Tony groaned again, letting his head sink into his hands, his headache suddenly returning with a vengeance. "So when he said that, I climbed into bed and snuggled up next to you." Tony kept his head down, wincing slightly as he waited for the explosion he fully expected.

There was total silence in the room for several moments, and Tony was afraid to look at Gibbs. Then Gibbs began to laugh. Tony looked up in shock. Gibbs was laughing harder now, and clutching at his right arm, the shaking from the laughter clearly causing him pain, but seemingly unable to stop. Tony just stared at him as if he'd lost his mind, which only seemed to amuse Gibbs more. Gibbs' refusal to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation began to piss Tony off. "What in the hell's the matter with you?" he snapped at Gibbs.

"I'll bet McGee's shitting his pants," Gibbs managed to gasp out around the chuckles that kept escaping.

Suddenly, the humor in the situation struck Tony, also. Gibbs was right. No practical joke he'd ever played on the probie could have freaked him out as much as he probably was right now. Then Tony remembered the stutters in McGee's message this morning, and before he knew it, Tony was laughing too. "You should have heard the message he left this morning. He could barely complete a sentence," Tony panted, as their laughter began to ebb. When they were both back under control, Tony said, "Seriously though, Gibbs, I outed us to McGee last night. We need to think about what we're going to do," as he sobered up again.

"We're not going to do anything," Gibbs said to him, as he struggled to sit up, so he could see Tony better.

"What, you want to pretend like it didn't happen?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Can't really do that, Tony. But I'm not going to act like I'm ashamed of it, either," Gibbs said forcefully. "What we do in our private time is just that, private. No one gets a say in it, as long as we aren't breaking any laws, or hurting anyone. This hasn't changed anything at work, and isn't going to."

"And if Vance finds out?" Tony demanded.

"Then he finds out. I'd rather he didn't, it'd be simpler that way, but I'm not going to sit around worrying about it, and you can't either, Tony. McGee's not going to run and tell him."

"I know that," Tony sighed. "But that doesn't mean someone else won't. Someone McGee says the wrong thing to."

"So we talk to McGee," Gibbs said, as if it would be as simple as that.

"You'd better let me do it then, Gibbs. I don't think you telling McGee what he is, or is not going to do, will work in this situation. I think this is going to call for a real conversation." Then a little smile escaped, as Tony pictured Gibbs trying to have a heart to heart with McGee. He wasn't sure which of them would be more uncomfortable. "I don't think he wants to have a conversation with you about it, anyway," he smirked.

"You're probably right about that. It'll be better coming from you. Just make sure…." Gibbs stopped midsentence, and gasped. He'd inadvertently put pressure on his right arm, and the pain which exploded in his shoulder forced him to quit talking.

Tony saw the look on Gibbs' face and correctly guessed what had happened. "Let's get you lying down again, Jethro," he said, as he limped back towards the bed. "You need to take another round of antibiotics anyway, and I'm guessing a pain pill might be in order, too." He helped Gibbs ease back so that he was leaning against the headboard, then after grabbing the glass from the bedside table, he made his way to the bathroom to fill it with water. "Don't we make a pretty pair?" he asked his reflection in the mirror over the sink, as he fingered the bandage on his face. When the glass was full, he carried it back to Gibbs, and shook out the pills from the bottles next to the bed. "Don't even think about it," he ordered, when it looked like Gibbs was going to argue over taking the pain pill. "You got shot. I think you're entitled to a little relief." He pressed the pills into Gibbs' hand, and stood, watching, to make sure Gibbs swallowed them all.

"Gotta use the head," Gibbs said, after taking the medicine.

"I'll help you," Tony volunteered, "but when you're done, its back to bed for you." It was a testament to how much pain Gibbs was in, when he didn't argue with Tony.

Once Gibbs was securely wrapped back up in the bedcovers, Tony ran a warm hand through Gibbs' hair. He loved the feel of the soft, silver locks, and never tired of touching them. "Don't worry, Jethro. I know what to say to McGee. I know I freaked out about it earlier, but I've got it covered. I just didn't want anything ruining all this," he said, hoping Gibbs would understand what he meant.

"No one else is going to ruin us, Tony. If this doesn't work out, it'll be because either _you _or _me_ screws it up, not someone else. And I'm not going to let _that_ happen," Gibbs told him vehemently in a husky voice, as he reached up to his head and covered Tony's hand with his own, lacing his fingers through Tony's, and squeezing gently. He pulled Tony's hand down, and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. "Lie back down with me?" he asked.

Tony gazed down at him, his eyes large and liquid. There was nothing he'd rather do then spend the day in bed with Gibbs, but common sense prevailed. "I'd better not. McGee said he needed to get our statements, which means he'll have to come over here at some point. I left a mess downstairs that I want to get picked up, and I need to get myself cleaned up and dressed, too. I'd rather not have this discussion with McGee wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants," the last statement made him grin slightly, as the picture formed in his mind. "Besides, if I lay down with you, I might not be able to make myself get back up, and I know McGee isn't ready to see us in bed together again. Although, I think the image might be permanently burned into his retinas already. You rest, and maybe when McGee leaves, we can thoroughly explore just how much better you're doing."

"I'll hold you to that," Gibbs said.

"I'm counting on it," Tony said, leaning over for a quick kiss. "Sleep now, coffee, tea, and me later," he promised, sliding out of Gibbs' grasp.

Gibbs was asleep again by the time Tony got out of the bathroom. After he'd rewrapped his ankle, he discovered, much to his disgust, that he could only get sweatpants over its bulk. After grabbing his cell phone, and stopping for a sweatshirt from the dresser, he made his way slowly down the stairs. When he got to the living room, he stopped, shocked by the number of beer bottles on the floor. He knew he'd had too much to drink, but hadn't realized _how_ much had really been too much. Getting the recycling bin from the kitchen to put the bottles in, he got the evidence of his own stupidity cleaned up. He had just started to think about whether his stomach would tolerate a bowl of cereal when his phone rang again.

Snatching it off the table, he looked at the display. McGee. Taking a deep breath, then pushing the button, he gave his standard answer, "DiNozzo."

"Tony?" McGee squeaked, then looked around the bullpen to make sure no one had heard him make that embarrassing sound.

"I thought I was the only DiNozzo you knew, Probie," Tony quipped, determined to sound as normal as possible. It wouldn't do for McGee to know that he was a little freaked out by the whole thing, too.

"You are, I mean, um, I knew it was you, it was just….look, never mind about that." Tony rolled his eyes as he listened to McGee fumble around.

"Vance says, um…..I need to get your statements today, so, um, are you still at Gibbs'?" McGee reached back and gave himself a head slap when that question popped out. 'Smooth Tim,' he told himself.

"Where else would I be, McGee? No car, remember?" Tony answered, deciding to let McGee off the hook by brushing the question off.

"Oh, oh yeah, um, right. Um, I'll get someone to drive your cars over there later. So, um, can I come over? To get the statements?" McGee managed to stutter out his question.

"Sure. Come on over. Gibbs is sleeping right now, but he'll probably be awake by the time you're done getting my report," Tony offered.

"Ah, great. I'll be there in about a half hour, um, if that's okay?"

Tony sighed. 'This is going to be a_ real treat_,' he told himself. "See you then," he said aloud, and couldn't resist pushing the button and disconnecting, before McGee could say anything more.

McGee stared at his phone. Tony had just hung up on him, he realized, feeling a little miffed. His second thought was that feeling angry beat the hell out of feeling scared, which is how he'd spent the entire morning. Gathering up his stuff, he walked over to the elevator, beginning to think that he might just live through this ordeal.

Tony went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He knew that Gibbs would need some when he got up, and he didn't want him to talk to McGee decaffeinated. He didn't care how calm Gibbs had sounded earlier when they were talking about the situation; that was no assurance he wouldn't snap if McGee said the wrong thing. As he prepared the coffee maker, he thought about what he needed from McGee. Obviously, he needed McGee to understand why he couldn't say anything about this to anyone else. But that wasn't all. He needed McGee to stop acting as if they'd suddenly grown a third eye, for a couple of reasons. If McGee continued to stutter and stammer when he talked to them, it wouldn't matter if he never said anything about this to other people – they'd figure out something was up, all on their own. Even more importantly, if McGee wasn't comfortable with he and Gibbs, then he couldn't watch their backs properly, and someone was  
going to get hurt - that wasn't acceptable. Now he just had to figure out how to go about it.

After parking his car in Gibbs' driveway, McGee just sat for a several minutes, trying to psych himself up. He'd stopped at a bakery on his way over and picked up a dozen donuts, figuring a little sugar might sweeten the situation, and he absentmindedly fiddled with the label on the box as he sat and thought. He couldn't help admire how cool Tony had been on the phone. He knew that if he'd been in his shoes, he wouldn't even have been able to _answer_ the phone. Tony had sounded absolutely normal, as if nothing had changed. 'Changed,' McGee thought. 'What had changed? Was Tony really any different than he'd been two days ago? Did the fact that he and Gibbs were lovers effect how they did the job?' He was still thinking about this when he looked up and saw that Gibbs' front door was open, and Tony was leaning in the door frame, watching him impatiently. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the file sitting next to him and tucked it under the box of donuts, then he climbed out of the car.

When he got to the door, he thrust the box at Tony and said, "Here, I got donuts."

"How very cop like of you," Tony laughed, as he took the box from McGee. "Come on in," and he stood aside to let McGee pass through the door. "Let's go into the kitchen," Tony said, as he led the way through the house. "I've got coffee made, if you want some?" he commented, looking at McGee for a response.

"That'd be great," McGee answered automatically.

When they got into the kitchen, Tony motioned towards a small table with four chairs pulled up to it. "Go ahead and sit, while I get the coffee."

McGee watched as Tony busied himself. He got mugs, spoons, and plates from various places in the cabinets. Then he crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of cream. Tim was amazed by how at ease Tony seemed in Gibbs' kitchen, and he realized it was further proof that this wasn't just a fling. After he'd doctored both his coffee and McGee's, Tony carried the mugs over to the table, then went back to the counter to get the plates and the box of donuts. Once the impromptu breakfast had been served, he sat down across from McGee. When McGee saw the tension in his shoulders, he realized with a start, that Tony wasn't as relaxed as he was trying to appear. Somehow that made him feel better.

McGee thanked him, and then quickly looked back down at his coffee, wondering what he should say to start the conversation he knew was unavoidable.

'Great,' Tony thought. 'He can't look me in the eye.' "So, McGee," he began, "about last night..,"

"Look Tony, it's okay. I was just surprised, is all. I hadn't gotten any clues before," McGee interrupted him.

"Well, what can I say? Gibbs and I are good under-covers," Tony quipped, watching for McGee's reaction.

McGee couldn't help it. He groaned at the bad pun, and then raised an eyebrow and sassed, "Pretty stuck on yourself, aren't you Tony? When you've really got it, you don't need to brag."

McGee watched Tony's shoulders relax, and he saw the near invisible mask on Tony's face fall away, as Tony smiled his first genuine smile since he'd arrived. Apparently McGee had just passed a test he hadn't even known he was taking.

Tony opened the box that sat in front of him, and held it out to McGee. "Donut?" he asked.

"Sure," McGee said, returning Tony's smile, amazed at how easy it was.

"Tony, I won't tell…."

"McGee, you can't tell…."

They had both started talking again at the same time, and they laughed when they realized they had been about to say virtually the same thing.

"Go ahead," McGee said to Tony.

"Guess I don't really need to say it, but I will anyway," Tony said with a smile. "I have to ask you not to tell anyone about us, McGee. If it got out, it could make it real hard at work. After all, it is the land of don't ask, don't tell."

"You don't have to worry, Tony. I wouldn't say anything about it to anyone," McGee assured him. "It's no one's business but yours and Gibbs."

Tony's smile burned a little brighter, and McGee could see what Gibbs' saw in him. "So, are we going to be okay? At work, I mean," Tony clarified.

"Don't see why not. It hasn't been a problem up until now," McGee answered.

"Thanks, Tim," the relief in Tony's voice evident, and his smile so bright now, McGee almost wished for sunglasses. "So, what do you need to know?" Tony surprised McGee by asking.

McGee took a moment. He didn't really need to know anything, but he was pretty sure he'd never get another chance to satisfy his curiosity, and so he couldn't stop himself from asking, "How long?"

"Since right after the whole mess with Jeanne," Tony said softly.

Longer than he'd thought, McGee realized. "Do you live here?" McGee shocked himself by asking.

"Yeah, though only officially since last month. I'm using a P.O. box as my address for anything work related."

"Does anyone else know?" McGee asked, wanting to be sure he'd guessed right.

"At work? Just Abby," Tony supplied.

"Okay," McGee said, then he dunked his donut in his coffee.

"That's it?" Tony asked in surprise.

"Yeah, I'm good," McGee said, amazed when he realized it was true. "Let me take your statement about yesterday, when I'm done with this donut."

"Sure thing, Probie. Have two if you like," Tony said.

McGee was just finishing writing up Tony's account of yesterday, when Gibbs walked into the kitchen.

"McGee," he nodded as he sat down at the table.

"Hey Boss," McGee answered.

"I'll get you a cup of coffee," Tony offered, standing as he spoke.

Gibbs watched Tony cross to the counter, and then turned to look at McGee. "So, did you get what you needed from Tony?" Gibbs asked him.

"Yeah, it's all good. I was just finishing up right now," McGee said, indicating the paper on the table.

"Did you get his statement, too?" Gibbs asked, looking directly at McGee, making it clear to McGee what he had really been referring to.

"Yeah, that's all good, too," McGee nodded, holding Gibbs' eyes.

"Good," was all Gibbs said, although McGee thought he saw the hint of a smile.

"Want a donut?" Tony asked, his hand poised to pull down a plate if Gibbs said yes.

"Just coffee for now," Gibbs said. "I need to give McGee my statement while I'm still awake, and then he's got to get back so that a neatly typed, official report is on Vance's desk by five," and with that indirect order, it was business as usual again.

When McGee left, their car keys in hand, Gibbs stood up from the table. Looking over at Tony he raised an eyebrow and said, "So, want to come upstairs and prove to me that you're really glad I'm still alive?"

"Probably not a good idea. I don't want to hurt your shoulder," Tony teased, as he stood up and walked over to Gibbs.

"It's not my shoulder that needs convincing, Tony," Gibbs said, as he reached his left hand out and grabbed onto Tony's sweatshirt, pulling him close.

As Tony leaned in to devour Gibbs' mouth, it occurred to him that Gibbs may have been shot yesterday, but today they'd both dodged a bullet. Then Gibbs returned his kiss with equal passion, and Tony stopped thinking about anything.


End file.
